


Brewed Awakening

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Young Tony Stark, brief mentions of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 91
Kudos: 987
Collections: 2019 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Brewed Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nixie_DeAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/gifts).



> This was such a fun story to work on! I really hope you love your gift!
> 
> I was inspired by the prompt: Steve takes classes at a community college, so that he can get his art degree, while working for SHIELD, and meets Tony Stark, Howard's wayward son, who's doing a favor for a friend and is one of the models for life study.
> 
> Many thanks to my absolutely fantastic beta, Cluegirl, without whom this story would have been very different and far more boring!

Steve signs up for the class because Natasha recommends it.

He’s been out of the ice for two years, back on active duty for eleven months, before Nat comes to him and makes the dry observation that he never goes anywhere that isn’t the gym or SHIELD. He looks back at her steadily, keeping the words that he wants to say locked behind his teeth—that he doesn’t know where else to go, that SHIELD held off on giving him a mission for thirteen months so he could catch up, that he still feels like he doesn’t belong despite coming to understand this new world.

Sometimes he thinks that Fury held off on giving him a mission for so long because he wanted to see how long it would take Steve to break (thirteen months and the death of Edward Stark, the man who helped make him).

“And what do you suggest I do?” he asks wearily. He’s always weary these days, always tired. He thinks of the boundless energy Ed used to have, the feeling that there was something waiting to be unleashed behind Peggy’s calm demeanor, the way Bucky always felt a little raw at the edges, and wonders if he’d ever seemed like that or if he’s always been weary and it took sleeping for seventy years to realize it.

Nat slaps a brochure into his hand. He takes one look at it and then scrambles to hand it back to her. “No,” he blurts out. “I don’t know what—I’m not—”

“Steve,” she says gently. “It’s not like how it used to be. People’s orientations don’t determine their lives.”

He knows that—he _does_ —it had been one of the first things he’d learned about this century. He knows that Clint is both an omega and a SHIELD agent, knows that the waitress at his favorite café is an alpha, knows that the prejudices from his childhood have faded away into the history books (along with Bucky and Peggy and Steve himself) but it’s different for Captain America.

Captain America is an alpha’s alpha. He can’t be seen attending art classes.

There’s a sad little smile at the corners of Natasha’s lips. “I know what you’re thinking,” she says (of course she does, she’s _Natasha_ ). “I’ve been there too.”

Natasha’s older than she looks. Her file says that she left the Red Room back in the late 90s and that, while Clint hadn’t been able to pin down her age exactly, he’d estimated her to be in her early twenties. It’s been over a decade since then but when Steve looks at the pictures in her file, she still looks as young as the day she’d defected. She’s an alpha too, one who remembers the last vestiges of the prejudices that had so pervaded the twentieth century.

“What did you study then?” he challenges. He’s not really expecting an answer. There’s a gap in her file between her defection and joining up with SHIELD. He’s never been told specifically what happened during those three years but he’d always gotten the impression that she’d spent them hiding in Clint’s apartment.

So he’s surprised when she shrugs and replies, “Nineteenth century French literature.”

He pauses. “Hugo?”

“Dumas actually.”

“Huh.” He takes another look at the brochure she somehow managed to press into his hands again. “Did it help?”

She shrugs again. “It didn’t hurt.”

He’s learned over the last eleven months that Natasha speaks in half-truths. Her admission is as good as a ringing endorsement. He flips open the brochure and glances through it.

“This is in Boston,” he points out.

There’s an odd gleam in her eyes that he’s almost certain she expects him to see because she never does anything without meaning to. “Fury’s sending the team out there for a few months. Security detail for some rich man’s son; it’s a personal favor to the guy or something like that.”

It’s not their usual kind of mission and Steve almost wants to comment on it but he says instead, “And you think I should be going to classes instead?”

“Fury _was_ only going to send me and Clint.”

They don’t call him a master strategist for nothing. It only takes him a few seconds to get what she’s not saying—that she’d requested Steve for this mission that he isn’t actually needed for because she thinks this class will be good for him.

He exhales shakily. “Maybe I like going to the gym and SHIELD,” he says.

The thing that he likes most about Natasha is that she never looks at him pityingly. She doesn’t do so now either. In fact, there’s nothing but cool indifference when she says, “That’s not a life, Steve,” and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s clenching the evidence in his fist, he’d think that she doesn’t care at all.

But he can see the barest hint of relief in her eyes belying her casual words when he nods and says, “You’ll have to show me how to sign up.”

* * *

Officially, Captain America no longer exists.

When Steve had first come out of the ice, he’d asked if he could go back on active duty. Fury hadn’t exactly told him no but saying that the world wasn’t ready for superheroes hadn’t left a whole lot of room for another interpretation. Steve hadn’t known what he had meant at first but then he’d found out that Captain America existed somewhere between historical figure and legend.

“Like Santa Claus,” Fury had said when Steve had asked him what had happened. “Probably did exist but the stories got blown out of proportion and now he’s a myth.”

“But I was _real_ ,” Steve had insisted. “I existed, there’s footage. How could people just forget about me?”

“All that footage was recalled after the war. Couldn’t have the knowledge of HYDRA’s weapons falling into the wrong hands. All that’s left are the propaganda films.”

The news that, despite everything he’d worked for, Captain America’s legacy lived on as Senator Brandt’s personal dancing monkey had hurt him a lot more than he’d ever admit to his SHIELD-appointed psychologist. He had worked so hard, done so much good, and no one remembered who he was.

The Howling Commandos were dead. Peggy’s memory had started fading years ago. Ed had still been around, teaching at some university in Massachusetts. But it had been too much of a safety risk for Steve to visit. Steve hadn’t really understood the explanation Fury had given him about why he couldn’t visit. If he had been perfectly honest with himself, he probably would have thought that Fury was trying to keep him isolated. But he hadn’t minded, too afraid to see what had happened to his old friend, be reminded that he was a lost relic, to push the issue. He’d been content to haunt the streets of New York, overwhelmed with a century’s worth of changes, drifting between his apartment and the old-fashioned gym a few buildings away.

And then Ed had died.

Somewhere, in the back of Steve’s mind, he had always sort of thought that he would have the time to grow used to the new century, that he would be able to see Ed eventually. But that choice had been snatched from him. He’d wondered then what the point of it all was if everyone he cared about was gone. But it had only been for a moment. Steve had never been one to give up like that so the next day had seen him back in Fury’s office.

“A mission, a desk job, anything,” he’d pleaded. “Just don’t—” He’d stopped then, remembering the newspaper he’d passed that morning with details of Ed’s funeral.

Fury had eyed him for a long minute. Steve was sure that he had known it would be a bad idea but then Fury had pulled a file from a drawer in his desk. He’d passed it to Steve. “Strike Team Delta. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. They’re good but they could be better.”

And just like that, Steve had found himself with an all-new uniform and a freshly painted shield but more importantly, he had become part of a team again.

* * *

SHIELD sets them up in an apartment a few blocks away from MIT. They’re in the same building as their protectee though Steve doesn’t know who they are. Ostensibly, he’s here on the mission as well but it’s really more of a forced vacation. On their first day in the apartment, he asks to see the mission file.

“No,” Natasha says firmly. “You’re here to go to class.” Steve opens his mouth to protest. “Clint and I were doing missions long before you came along and we did them well. You are not needed for this one.”

Steve glares at her. “Does Fury even know I’m not on the mission?”

“Yep!” Clint chirps, passing by with a piano bench in his arms. Steve doesn’t know why the team needs a piano in their apartment but apparently, they have one.

“But I could help,” Steve points out. “Wouldn’t it be better if you had three people?”

Natasha sits on one of the dining room chairs and props her feet up on the table. “Steve, we need people who can be subtle,” she says, not unkindly. “The man we’re working for, whose son we’re guarding, he thinks that someone inside his company has betrayed him. He needs people who can blend into the background, who can look without looking. You’re great at tactical support, fantastic on comms, and there’s not a person in the world who can rival you with that shield but you’re about as subtle as a—”

“—bull in a china shop,” he finishes gloomily.

“Hey,” Clint says sharply, dropping into one of the other chairs. “None of that. Nat and I have been doing this for years. You’ve been at it for a few months.”

Natasha is watching him shrewdly. “Why are you so against this class?”

Steve doesn’t know how to explain the years he’d spent as Captain America, being told that art was an omega’s field. He doesn’t know how to explain that the more useless he feels, the more he wishes he hadn’t come out of the ice. He just says, “There’s more I could be doing.”

“There really isn’t,” Clint says gently. “You’re gonna burn yourself out at this rate.”

Steve’s already mostly burned out, his passion extinguished when Bucky fell from a train in Switzerland. At this point, he’s just trying to do as much good as possible before he burns out entirely. “I want to _help_.”

“You _are_ ,” Nat says. She pulls out a small yellowed scrap of paper and slides it across the table toward him. From where he’s standing, Steve can see the familiar picture of a rose he’d once drawn for Peggy. “Director Carter used to carry this. She gave it to me the first time we met. It was right after I escaped the Red Room, when I didn’t know who I was and was too scared of my handlers catching me to try anything new. She said that one of her favorite things to do during the war was to sit and watch you draw. She said that you looked so focused, so content, sitting there hunched over your sketchbook. It reminded her that there was life outside of the war, that there was more than the next mission. Clint helped me escape, gave me a place to get back on my feet, but you helped me _live_. Let me repay the favor.”

There’s a look in her eyes, worry maybe about what Steve is becoming and understanding for what he’s going through. He reaches for the drawing, studying it. He remembers this one. He’d drawn Peggy many roses because he had been too poor to afford them but this one he’d drawn a few hours before their final assault on HYDRA, the day he’d gone into the ice. He had been thinking about going home after the war, about a house with a porch where he could live with Peggy and their children. He’d had that dream before but it had never seemed further away than it had that day. That dream is long gone but maybe Nat’s right. Maybe it’s time he found a different one.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

“Okay?” Nat asks, sounding breathlessly relieved. “Okay.” She stands and kisses his cheek. “Clint and I will take care of all the payments. It’s the least we can do for dragging you out to Massachusetts—”

“—Hey! I didn’t agree to that—”

“—Here are a few brochures: important information about the college, a couple classes you can take. I don’t know how long we’ll be here so we’re doing this on a semester by semester basis but I’ve got a few spring semester classes in here anyway just in case they’re something you want to look into once we get back to New York.”

“You know,” Steve comments. “I can help with the payments.”

Clint snorts. “No, you can’t.” He stands. “We’re gonna go upstairs, meet Howard and his son.”

“Howard’s not here,” Nat reminds him. “It’s just Maria.”

“Right,” Clint mutters. “Damn rich guy can’t even bother to show up to meet his employees.”

Steve looks at the brochures in his hand. “I recommend that one,” Clint says suddenly, tapping one of them. Steve looks at the brochure of the life study class.

“Maybe,” he says noncommittedly. He flips it over, just to look at the cost. His eyes nearly bug out of his head. Clint’s right. He can’t afford it.

* * *

Steve’s pretty sure Clint recommends the life study class because he thinks he’ll be shocked by the nude model. Steve’s not sure why; he’s ninety-five, not dead. He’d gone to quite a few art classes back before he’d gotten the serum, when he’d still been able to pass as an omega. Nude models are nothing of a shock, particularly not in the casual way they’re presented for these studies.

What _does_ give him a shock is the way none of the other students look twice at him. Steve had gone to exactly one art class after he’d gotten the serum. He’d still been Senator Brandt’s personal dancing monkey at the time and there had been a class in D.C. He still burns with shame when he thinks of the names he’d been called after stepping foot in the room, the things they’d accused him of. It hadn’t been right for an alpha to be interested in the softer fields. Art was an omega’s world.

But here, now, not only do the other students not look at him funny (other than the few appreciative glances he’s grown accustomed to) but he’s not even the only alpha in the class. The class is made up of mostly betas and a few omegas, and even that is different than what he’s used to, but more importantly, there are three other alphas, two of whom are art majors. It’s a shock for Steve but a welcome one.

To his surprise, Steve likes the class. Not that he’d been expecting not to but he’d been going through the motions for so long that genuine enjoyment had utterly surprised him. He’d kind of just been expecting that he would go to appease Natasha, but he _does_ like it. He likes the other students and Dr. Smith and their usual model, an alpha herself named Virginia, who always comes smartly dressed in towering heels that make Steve’s feet hurt just looking at them.

Virginia’s quick with a snarky comment and she doesn’t let anyone walk over her. Every time he looks at her, Steve’s reminded of Peggy. During their second class, one of the alphas makes a rude comment about how he’d been expecting omega models. Virginia threatens him with pepper spray and then follows through with the threat when he continues to bother her.

Steve can’t quite hold in his grin when that happens. But it’s okay because just about everyone else is laughing and even Dr. Smith has to turn to the blackboard ( _whiteboard_ , Steve corrects himself) in an attempt to hide her smile. The alpha never shows up again.

And then, halfway into the semester, Virginia herself doesn’t show up.

She’s almost always the first one there, usually arriving at the classroom at around the same time as Steve. But she’s not there this time. Steve shrugs it off easily enough, thinking that she’s probably just running late, until he walks inside and sees a young man talking to Dr. Smith.

“—broken ankle, I think,” says the young man— _omega_ , Steve’s nose helpfully supplies when he smells apples and cinnamon. “Said to tell you she’s sorry, mostly because she’s sending me in her place.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Dr. Smith says with a titter that sounds completely out of place on Steve’s solidly built professor.

The young man gives a short bark of a laugh. His back is to Steve so he can’t see what he looks like but it sounds like a nice one. “Nah, I’m a terrible model. You’ll see. But I owed Pep a favor so, you know, gotta pay her back sometime.”

Steve tunes out the rest of the conversation as he sets up his easel. So Virginia’s not here this week, huh? For the most part he ignores their conversation, aware that he doesn’t have the right to eavesdrop, but he can’t seem to stop himself from occasionally glancing up at the young man as he finishes talking with Dr. Smith before disappearing into the closet Virginia always changes in.

The other students start trickling in. Steve gets drawn into a conversation with Lauren, one of the betas in the class. She really likes Steve because they’re both “nontraditional” students, as she puts it. Steve supposes that means that they’re both older than the others because that’s the only similarity he can place between them and the other students are all at least five years younger.

As it is, he doesn’t think about the new model until Dr. Smith calls for attention as the class settles down. “Where’s Virginia?” Lauren asks.

“Injured,” Dr. Smith replies. “She’ll be out for the rest of the semester. We’ve got a substitute model who will be taking her place.” She hesitates. “I’m sure I won’t have to tell you this once you see who he is but I need to ask you to refrain from any photos, no tweets, blog posts, anything of the sort.”

 _Jeez, who is this guy?_ Steve wonders.

“Tony, you can come on out now,” Dr. Smith calls and the omega from earlier steps out of the closet.

Steve’s immediate thought upon seeing his face is _Edward_. But that’s not right. Ed is gone—and yet, this model has the same bone structure, same bright eyes (Bucky, who’d been a little sweet on Ed, had called them “Bambi eyes”), same soft curls. He doesn’t put it together until the girl next to him mutters, “Holy shit, it’s Tony Stark.”

And yeah, he remembers now reading about Ed’s son and grandson surviving him. Steve had wanted to contact them after Ed had passed but Fury had deemed it still too much of a safety risk. No one’s supposed to know that Captain America is still alive. He supposes that includes the family members of his old friends.

Tony’s slipped off the robe—silk, much nicer than the one Virginia wears—and is settling on the stool. “Figures he’s the new model,” somebody else says, low enough that Steve’s probably the only one who hears it. “Everybody’s seen those videos.”

He wants to ask what they mean but the comment wasn’t meant for him and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it. Instead, he makes a mental note of it and then begins working on his sketch.

Tony was right earlier. He’s a _terrible_ model. He’s fidgety and easily distracted by what the students are doing. Dr. Smith has to keep calling for him to go back to his position. But when he’s actually sitting still, there’s this sort of coiled energy to him like he’s just waiting to be unleashed. Steve loves it. It’s just dying to be captured on paper and yet it’s nearly impossible. He blurs the edges of Tony’s outline, decides that that’s a little bit better, and glances back up. Tony is looking off into the distance now, gaze unfocused as though he’s thinking about things bigger than this class.

 _Lovely_ , Steve thinks and then pauses. It’s not that Tony isn’t lovely, because he is. It’s that he hasn’t thought that about anyone since the first time he saw Peggy. He takes a longer look at Tony under the guise of needing to check something. He notes again the big eyes, the fluffy hair just begging to be messed up, but this time he also takes in the small waist that Steve’s pretty sure he could fit his hands around, the delicate wrists and lithe frame, and the absolutely perfect ass. From here, he can spot the callouses on Tony’s hands and the lean muscles, a subtle indicator that he’s going to go into the engineering business like his grandfather before him. There’s an odd patch of skin across his chest that looks like it might be a few shades lighter than the rest of him but Steve chalks it up to not getting enough sun. _Lovely_ , he thinks again and sets aside his attraction to panic over later.

When he flicks his gaze up to Tony’s face, he sees Tony watching him, a curious look in his eyes. As he watches, that look turns into a slow smirk, followed by Tony dragging his gaze down Steve’s body, taking him in a long look. It’s the kind of look that belongs more in a bedroom than in this classroom. Steve catches his breath and hastily buries himself in his sketch.

He’s working on Tony’s eyes now so he reluctantly looks his way again. They’re dark and expressive, with that same intelligent gleam that Ed had. It’s easily the most difficult part to capture on paper. He keeps sketching and shading, trying to get that expression just right, until before he knows it, over thirty minutes have passed. Tony is still looking at him but he’s blinking slowly, his body listing to one side. Steve frowns, taking a closer look at the shadows under the omega’s eyes. They’re deep and dark. Almost absently, Steve thinks that the room is warm. He distantly thinks of one time back in 1939 when he’d fallen asleep in the classroom because it had heating and his apartment didn’t.

Steve puts it together, getting to his feet right as Tony starts to slip off the stool. He all but dives for him, catching him just before he hits the floor. He has a brief thought of how perfect Tony feels in his arms before Dr. Smith is there, fussing over the two of them.

“I don’t know how you caught him,” she exclaims.

“It’s fine,” Steve mutters. Abruptly, he realizes he’s holding a naked omega in his arms. “Do you have a blanket?”

“Here,” Lauren says, passing him Tony’s robe. He murmurs his thanks, picks up both Tony and the robe, and walks into the closet to get him dressed. Maybe it makes him look like a prude, as Clint had once observed, but Tony hasn’t consented to this sort of nudity, just to model. He doesn’t want anyone to take liberties with the omega.

 _Like you aren’t taking any_ , he thinks to himself ruefully. But that’s different; it has to be.

Tony blinks himself awake while Steve’s tying the robe over his stomach. “Hey, soldier,” he says drowsily.

Steve freezes. “How did you know?” he asks.

Tony takes a deep breath like he’s still not entirely awake and paws at Steve’s dog tags. Oh. He hadn’t realized those had slipped free. He tucks them back into his shirt and says, “You could go back out there but I’m pretty sure Dr. Smith told everyone to pack up.”

“Told her I was a terrible model,” Tony says. He’s still listing and Steve steadies him with one hand.

“Late night, huh?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. “Staying at the lab anyway. Figured I’d get some work done.”

He wants to ask why Tony’s staying at the lab but he doesn’t know him well enough to ask that. He just picks up Tony’s clothes and hands them to him. “I’ll let you get dressed,” he says and leaves the closet.

He’s finishing packing up the last of his stuff when he hears Tony’s footsteps behind him. “Let me get you a cup of coffee. Brewed Awakening makes the best coffee in Boston.” It’s not really a request but not exactly a command either. He’s never dealt well with other people telling him what to do and he doesn’t appreciate it from Tony, Ed’s descendant or not.

“Do people always do what you want them to do?” he asks evenly.

A pause and then Tony laughs. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asks again, sounding genuinely delighted. “Least I can do for falling asleep during your class.”

Steve glances at him. Tony’s rocking back and forth on his feet, clearly eager. There’s still a lingering exhaustion in his eyes and Steve wants to tell him to go get some sleep instead but there’s also something anxious there like he’s expecting Steve to turn him down.

“ _I_ can get coffee,” he says. “ _You_ can have tea.”

Tony wrinkles his nose and Steve amends it to, “Or something without caffeine.”

“You know,” Tony quips as they walk down the hall. “Vodka doesn’t have caffeine.”

“It’s a little early in the day to be drinking vodka,” Steve replies. He looks at the still baby-faced omega. “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Yes!” Tony says, so indignantly that Steve drops the subject.

* * *

Tony orders a caramel brulée frappuccino which may not have caffeine but it certainly has more than enough sugar to make up for it.

Steve is completely overwhelmed by the number of options until Tony glances at him and then tells the cashier, “Tall americano, please.” Steve has no idea what that means. These order choices hadn’t existed in the 40s—or at the diner near his current apartment. But Tony seems pretty convinced that he’s made the right choice so he doesn’t say anything as the cashier finishes ringing them up.

“Why don’t you find us a table?” Tony offers as he hands over a ridiculous amount of money. “And I’ll wait for the drinks.”

Steve thinks about arguing—he’s the alpha, he should be the one picking up the drinks, right?—but he sees how crowded the coffeeshop is, how people are quite literally staking out tables, and thinks about how he’s never going to remember what Tony ordered. He wanders off to find a table. He ends up managing to nab one right as the previous customers are getting up. He waits a few minutes, informs someone that he’s waiting for someone else when they try to take the other chair, and then places his bag on the other chair.

Tony shows up a few minutes later. He sets one of the drinks down in front of Steve and saves the other one—a monstrosity piled high with whipped cream and some sort of sauce. “Picked you up a couple sugar packets,” he says, tossing a couple brightly colored packets across the table. “Wasn’t sure if you used to drink it like that.”

Steve quirks his head.

Tony bites his lip to hide a grin, fails, and continues, “The americano originated in World War II. I thought it might be similar to what you used to drink.”

Steve stills. This isn’t—he’s supposed to—Tony _shouldn’t know!_ He knows that his breathing is starting to pick up. He tries to remember the breathing exercises SHIELD’s therapist taught him but they’re not coming to mind. His hand is clenching on the coffee mug. The thought flits across his mind that he’s going to break the mug if he keeps squeezing down on it like this but he can’t force himself to stop.

He watches the coffee in the cup slosh in his trembling grasp, trying to focus on it. Then a small, warm hand lays over his. “Steve,” Tony says urgently. “ _Steve_. Shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Howard always said I was too much of an asshole for my own good.”

“You’re babbling,” Steve manages to say. He forces his eyes to meet Tony’s.

Tony grins nervously. His free hand runs through his hair. “Yeah, I do that.” The grin fades. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. It’s still a secret, you don’t need to worry. Nonno used to have a couple pictures of you, ones that didn’t make it into the Smithsonian. We suspected SHIELD found you after they stopped asking about the SI expeditions but never got any confirmation.”

Steve remembers that. Ed used to love taking pictures of the Commandos, claimed helping them was the best thing he’d ever done and he’d be damned if he didn’t have proof of that. Steve’s identity had been a closely guarded secret but that had never stopped Ed.

“Sorry,” Tony says again.

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t need to be. Think I’ve been on edge since I saw you. You look an awful lot like your granddad.”

Tony’s grin is back. “I get that a lot.” He takes his hand back. Steve misses its warmth immediately. Tony leans back in his chair, looking for all the world perfectly relaxed and not like he’d been worried about breaking Steve a few minutes ago. “So what’s Captain America doing in Boston, hmm?”

“Secret mission,” Steve replies easily. He takes a sip of his coffee, surprised to find that it tastes almost exactly like what he used to drink. Tony’s watching him intensely. “Good choice.”

“Would this secret mission have anything to do with my new bodyguards?” Tony asks casually. He nods across the street to where Natasha and Clint are watching them. Natasha scowls when Steve’s gaze lights on them but Clint gives a little wave. “But why the art class?” Tony continues. “You couldn’t have known I’d be there.”

“I’m not on your security detail,” Steve admits. He hesitates, reluctant to say anything more. Tony, however, is clearly capable of reading past what he isn’t saying.

“Trouble adjusting?” he asks knowingly. He reaches up and taps at his chest. There’s an odd sound like he’s tapping on metal and Steve is reminded of that discolored patch of skin. Not a bad tan then but a covering of some kind. “Souvenir of my last kidnapping. Three months trapped in a cave in Afghanistan with a bunch of guys who had Stark weapons, weapons that _I_ had worked on. Came back, told Howard I wouldn’t do it anymore, so he kicked me out. Nonno retired here after he left SI, spent his last couple years teaching engineering. He left me the condo and some money after he died so I thought I’d come back here and get another degree.” He pauses, mouth still open, and Steve seizes his chance.

“It’s the bed, right?” he asks. “It’s too soft.”

Tony’s smile is sad. “And the heat. The caves were cold but I spent a few days in the desert before Rhodey found me. Doesn’t really leave you.”

Steve shivers, thinking of the nights he’s spent freezing no matter how high he turns the heat in his apartment. Tony watches him and adds, “You’d probably get that better than most.” He snorts softly. “Great, Tony, this is great. Take a guy out for coffee and you wind up like this.”

Steve can’t quite stop the smile that wants to inch across his face. He likes Tony, likes the way he isn’t tiptoeing around him, likes the quick wit he’s only seen hints of but is clearly there, likes how very pretty he is. “Is that what we’re doing here?” he asks.

Tony takes an obnoxious slurp of his drink. There’s a smear of whipped cream at the corner of his lips. Steve wants to take his thumb and rub it away—or maybe lick it off.

“Is that what you want to be doing?” Tony tosses back at him.

Steve shrugs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Tony tracks the motion, eyes darkening. Well, that’s certainly reassuring. “I wouldn’t be against it,” he says calmly.

Tony grimaces. “Yeah, no, I like my partners enthusiastically consenting.” He stands, gathering his things. “See you Wednesday?”

Steve watches him go, furrow forming between his brows. He’d thought that he _was_ consenting. His phone buzzes with a text from Natasha. He glances at it, frown deepening as he reads, _You’re not very good at talking to omegas, are you?_

Yeah, okay so maybe his interactions with Peggy hadn’t gone very well either. He groans, dropping his head into his hands. It had always been hard to tell if Peggy was as interested in him as he was in her. But Tony _was_ interested. It had been written in every line of his body. So maybe he just hadn’t made his interest obvious enough. He reaches for his phone.

_Got any suggestions?_

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asks, scanning the list of ideas she’d given him.

Natasha nods and snatches the paper back, scribbling something else on it. “Absolutely. Tony will love it.”

Steve reads her writing upside-down. “Drink…from…the…same…spot…he…does. Natasha, this seems awfully forward of me.”

“New century, new rules, Cap,” Clint says. He’s sitting on the couch, tossing popcorn in the air and catching it in his mouth. Supposedly, he’s watching some sort of trashy reality show but he’s looking at Steve and Nat more than he is the TV so Steve thinks it’s just his excuse.

“Yeah but…”

“Look,” Nat says impatiently. She holds a bright red buttoned shirt to Steve’s chest. “Not your color,” she mutters and swaps it out for a dark blue one. “Look, Tony is interested in you—”

“How do you know that?”

Clint chuckles. “He went back to his apartment after your coffee date yesterday and promptly locked himself in his bedroom.”

Steve stares confusedly at him. “I don’t—what does that mean?”

“It means he’s interested,” Nat says. “Try this waistcoat on.”

“Why?”

“Because you cannot woo an omega like Tony Stark in your grandpa clothes,” Clint replies.

“Shouldn’t Tony like me for me?” Steve asks but he obediently puts the vest on.

“Of course he should,” Natasha says soothingly, now holding bowties up to his neck. “I think this is too hipster. Clint, what do you think?” Clint tilts his head to look at the ties and then nods. She whisks them away. “He should—and he will—but there’s no shame in dressing up the packaging a little.”

“No,” Steve says firmly, removing the vest. “I’ll try your ideas but I’m not changing how I dress.”

Natasha takes the vest back reluctantly, a small frown on her face. “Tony thinks you’re not interested in him.”

“And I’m changing the way I act so he can see that I am. But changing my clothes is a little too far.” He pauses. “And I still think your ideas are too much.”

“Trust me,” Clint replies. He tosses a piece of popcorn at Nat, who catches it and stuffs it into her mouth happily. “If anything, it’s not enough.”

If it hadn’t been for the fact Steve knows neither of them would prank him like this (put shaving cream in the whipped cream canister, yes, but never this), he’d think they were trying to pull a fast one on him. But they’re both watching him with earnest expressions. “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m still not changing my clothes.”

“I can work with that,” Nat says and whisks the clothes away. Her phone buzzes. She checks it, then says, “I’ll be right back. Tony ordered food. He needs me to check the delivery guy.” She slips on shoes and leaves.

“How is Tony anyway?” Steve asks.

“Insistent that he doesn’t need babysitters and convinced that his parents are overreacting,” Clint says.

“Is he giving you problems?”

“Nah. He’s a momma’s boy at heart and she was practically in tears when we met with her. He wants to keep her happy so, whether he likes it or not, he keeps us around.”

“What do you think?” Steve asks.

“Nat thinks I’m crazy but I think there’s something fishy going on with the godfather. He called Tony three times yesterday, trying to get him to return to the company.”

“And you think that’s weird?”

“If it had only been once, I probably would have been fine with it but three times in one day is a lot. Come sit down with me. I think they’re gonna kick Bridget off the show. That’s not something you want to miss.” Clint waits for Steve to sit down before continuing, “It’s bothering me that we’re just on security detail. I want to be looking into it.”

“It worries you that much?”

“Tony’s a good kid,” Clint admits. “I don’t want to see him get hurt. There’s someone out to get him and we’re stuck here when we could be investigating. I think you were right; we need more people on this.” He casts a sideways glance at Steve. “Hopefully, you’ll be spending a lot more time with him. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“Both eyes,” Steve promises. “As much as I can.”

* * *

He greets Tony on Wednesday morning with a gingerbread latte from the same place Tony had taken him to. Tony stares at it for a long moment before saying, “What’s this?”

“For you,” Steve says, holding it out insistently.

“You know, the whole point of me taking you out for coffee was to pay you back for catching me when I fell asleep, not so that you could pay me back again.”

Steve does not roll his eyes because he’s a mature adult (somewhere, in the back of his mind, he can hear Bucky laughing at him). “I just wanted to say sorry for how Monday ended.”

Tony eyes the drink. “I can’t drink this while I’m modeling.”

Steve sighs. Okay, so obviously Tony doesn’t want to take this any further. “Fine. I can throw it out.”

Tony gasps dramatically and snatches the cup away. “No takesies backsies,” he declares and drains the cup in five swallows. Steve’s mouth goes dry. Tony lowers the cup slowly, head cocked at a curious angle. “I don’t get it. You tell me that you’re not against going out with me, which isn’t exactly the most enthusiastic agreement, but then you look at me like that. So which is it?”

Steve gives a small self-deprecating chuckle. “Natasha tells me I’m useless at talking to omegas. But—” He reaches out and swipes away the little bit of coffee clinging to Tony’s top lip with the tip of his finger. “I _am_ interested.” He sticks his finger into his mouth to suck the coffee off it and walks into the classroom.

He hears Tony stifle a gasp behind him and grins. He’ll have to remember to thank Natasha for that idea.

* * *

Tony saunters up to him before class, snagging Steve’s coffee out of his hands and drinking from it. “We should go out tonight.”

“Should we?” Steve replies. “I was thinking I liked the slow burn.” He’s still pretty sure that this idea is pushing too hard, too fast, but here goes nothing. He takes his mug back and drinks from the same spot Tony did.

Tony lets out a stifled whimper and blurts out, “I have to go!” before darting into the classroom.

Steve watches him go bemusedly. Natasha, a little further down the hallway, calls to him, “Told you he’d like it!”

* * *

They run into each other at Brewed Awakening. Natasha and Clint hang back, the grins on their faces making it evident that they knew Steve would be here and suggested Tony come out. Steve slides his coffee across the table to Tony and gets up to order another one.

“Don’t bother,” Tony says cheerfully. “We can share.”

They spend the afternoon like that, passing the coffee back and forth, and chatting about both everything and nothing all at once. It’s the best afternoon Steve’s had in this new century. Tony’s witty and sarcastic and comes off as uncaring but Steve sees the soft interior beneath that prickly shell. They have differing opinions on just about everything—which isn’t terribly surprising considering they come from different time periods—except the important stuff. They share the same opinions about those.

And at the end of it, Steve walks away with a phone number in his pocket.

* * *

The next Wednesday, Tony suggests that he change positions instead of the usual seated one. Dr. Smith thinks it’s a great idea so he settles onto one of the couches in the room, reclining back against the armrest. He props one leg up against the back of the couch, the other one dangling off the front. From this angle, Steve can just barely see the shadow between his legs and he aches to get up from his seat and claim his omega.

He pauses. _His_ omega? Where had that thought even come from? But there’s something about it that feels right. He tries the words out to himself and something settles deep in his chest. Tony isn’t his yet but he could be.

He slowly raises his gaze. Tony’s eyes are on him, blazing with heat. Steve very deliberately meets his gaze, lets his eyes trail down Tony’s lithe body (he can’t imagine how Tony’s staying soft because Steve’s hard enough to pound nails), and then turns away to his paper.

Tony huffs out a soft laugh before resting his head back against the pillow, showing off the long line of his neck. Steve can’t help but steal a glance at the smooth patch of skin where a bond mark would be. He’s being seduced, he knows he is, but it feels so good to be wanted that he can’t bring himself to care.

* * *

It’s a Saturday afternoon. Steve has spent the entire afternoon and most of the morning at Brewed Awakening, working on a project for his life study class. He pauses in his work to shake out his hand just as there’s a small commotion from the front door. He looks up just in time to see Tony dash through the crowd and slide to a stop beside Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tony pants, dropping into the seat across the table. “Obie came by this morning, wanted to talk about SI.”

“Oh?” Steve asks politely. He’s pretty sure Obie is the godfather that makes Clint so nervous but he can’t fully remember. He makes a note to look it up when he gets back to the apartment.

“Yeah. He thinks I should give up on this ‘silly clean energy initiative’ and go back to SI.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Like I’m not going to go back eventually.”

“You are?” This is the first time Steve’s ever heard that. Every other time Tony’s talked about his family’s company, it’s always with an undertone of permanently leaving.

Tony shrugs. “I mean, Howard hasn’t officially disowned me yet so SI is still mine if he dies. Doesn’t matter. I’m never going back to weapons, not even when I inherit the company, so Obie can just get over it.”

His words ring a discordant note in Steve’s brain. He sets his pencil down, giving his full attention to Tony. “Who gets the company if you and Howard both die?” he asks.

“Obie does. Why? Are you interested in getting the largest weapons manufacturer in the world?”

Steve shakes his head, sitting back in his seat. So Obadiah Stane inherits Stark Industries in the event of the owners’ deaths, huh? He frowns, mulling it over in his brain.

“Hey, don’t look like that,” Tony says. “Obie’s been around since before I was born. He’s not the one after me.” But he’s tapping at the weird metal thing under his shirt, a clear tell that he’s nervous. Steve wonders if it’s something that Tony’s been thinking about too.

“What is it?” he asks abruptly, gesturing to the thing Tony’s tapping. He’s been wondering about it for a while. Now he’s curious if it’ll add another piece to the puzzle.

“This? It’s, um, it’s a glorified pacemaker.”

Steve has no idea what that is.

Tony grins, clearly seeing his confusion. “It’s an electromagnet. I had it installed after I was kidnapped in Afghanistan.”

“What does it do?”

“Keeps the shrapnel in my chest from reaching my heart.”

Steve gapes at him. “It keeps _what_?”

Tony winces. “Yeah, I probably didn’t explain that the best, huh?” He frowns and looks out the window. Steve gets the impression that this is a conversation Tony doesn’t really want to have face-to-face so he looks back down at his sketch. “When my convoy was attacked six months ago, there was this missile that went off right next to me. I was wearing a bulletproof vest but those can only do so much. The shrapnel went right through the vest and into my chest. The other prisoner with me, Yinsen, said it was a pretty common injury. He called them the walking dead. I was lucky. I had the resources to build the arc reactor.”

Tony pauses. Steve gets the impression though that this is something Tony’s needed to say for a while so he stays quiet. “After SHIELD rescued me, I wanted to build more so I could send them to Yinsen. Thought maybe he could do something with them, help other people. Howard wouldn’t approve it though. So that’s when I told him I wouldn’t build any more weapons and then he kicked me out.”

“You came back here?” Steve asks.

“Nonno had the apartment and I thought maybe if I got another PhD, maybe another couple of patents, someone would hear about it and finance me.”

Steve’s thought process comes to a screeching halt. “ _Another_ PhD? Tony, exactly, how old are you?”

Tony grins. “Twenty-one. Yeah, I know, I’m still pretty young. You knew Nonno. You know how smart he was?” Steve nods. “I’m even smarter, a lot smarter actually. And Howard knew it. He pushed for me to get through school quicker so I could work on SI designs for him.”

“Huh,” Steve says, impressed. He knows that Tony’s smart. Tony’s talked a few times about his projects and it always flies right over Steve’s head. But he’d never realized just _how_ smart the omega is. He thinks about it all, about Tony wanting to work on clean energy and medical technology, about him giving up on weapons, about SI losing what was probably their best inventor. If it hadn’t been for Howard being the one to ask for Tony’s bodyguards, he probably would have said that _Howard_ is actually the person threatening Tony’s life.

Under the table, he sends a quick text to Clint: _If you can, look into Obadiah Stane._

And then, just in case, _Maybe Howard Stark too._

* * *

“You look happy,” Natasha comments, sitting in the armchair across from him.

“Do I?” he asks. He’s working on a sketch of Tony. He had swung by Tony’s lab a few days ago (with coffee, of course) only to find the omega having a full-on argument with his bot, affectionately named DUM-E. It had been the most adorable thing he thinks he’s ever seen and he can’t help but want to put it down on paper.

“Or at least, happier.”

There’s something about the way she says it that makes him pause. He puts down his pencil and peers closely at her. “Did you plan this?”

She smiles soft and sweet. Even on her, it comes off as slightly terrifying but Steve’s known her for almost a year and a half by this point. He knows she means it. “Even I couldn’t plan this,” she tells him. “I only act like I know everything.” Her phone buzzes once. “Tony asked me if I want to go get dinner.”

Steve’s phone buzzes a second later. It’s also a text from Tony. He grins as he reads it. “No,” he corrects. “He asked _me_ if I want to go get dinner and said that he asked you just so you wouldn’t feel like you’re being forced.”

Natasha stands. “Guess I better tell Clint we’re on the clock.” As she passes by, she places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you smiling.”

* * *

They’re leaving class when Lauren stops them with a hand to Steve’s arm. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she asks urgently.

Tony looks at them curiously. Lauren glances at him; it occurs to Steve that she probably means alone. “You go on ahead,” Steve says. “I’ll walk you to class next time.”

Tony nods and calls, “Murder Twins! Let’s go!” Nat and Clint come out of whatever dark doorway they were lurking in and join him. The three walk off down the hallway, disappearing through the double doors at the end. Steve turns back to Lauren.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Of course,” Lauren assures him. “Look, I’m glad to see you’re making friends. When you got here, you seemed a little lost. It’s good to see you smiling again. But I just think you should maybe reconsider your friendship with Tony Stark.”

Steve gives her a stony glare and puts his hands on his hips. “Is that what you think?” he asks.

“Oh!” Lauren says, clearly flustered by Steve not automatically agreeing with her. “There’s nothing wrong with him, per se. It’s just that you’re a very nice, young man—not that Stark isn’t! But, well, everyone’s seen those videos.”

Steve hasn’t. Steve doesn’t even know what videos Lauren’s talking about. But it doesn’t matter because he’s gotten to know Tony over the last several weeks and he knows that Tony has changed from whatever he used to be. After hearing Tony talk about his past with no small matter of disgust, Steve’s certain he can infer what he used to be like. But Tony’s certainly not like that anymore. The kind of man who would come home from a traumatic experience and promptly start working on life-saving technology is certainly not a bad man, no matter what videos may be out there.

“I understand your concern,” he begins and then inserts as much righteousness into his voice as he can. “But what’s going on between Tony and I is private and none of your business. I know Tony very well. I can tell you that whatever you think he may be like is wrong. Tony’s wonderful and I like him very much, not that it should matter to you. I think you should learn to keep your nose to yourself and remember that celebrities have as much right to their personal lives as you do.” He turns and walks off.

“I’m just worried about you,” Lauren calls after him.

“I didn’t ask you to worry about me,” Steve shouts back. He should probably leave it there but he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut. He turns back around. “And if this is how you worry about your friends, then I don’t think I want to be your friend.”

* * *

Look, he’s not saying Tony doesn’t have a reputation. He does and Tony acknowledges that it’s pretty well deserved. But he _is_ saying that the videos Lauren had talked about, taken a few months before Tony met Steve, were very obviously released without his consent and feature a half-naked Tony who hadn’t wanted to be at the party.

“I was seeing this guy,” Tony says quietly. They’re at Brewed Awakening, Tony perched on his lap in an armchair because the place is packed. “We’d gone out a couple times before Afghanistan and, yeah, I can see why he would think I still wanted to do that kind of thing because I did before—” He stops and takes a deep breath. “We kind of picked up where we left off. He wasn’t too happy with me not wanting to go out anymore so he got me drunk and then took me out. He was the one who took the videos and released them.”

Steve’s gaze flickers toward the video on his phone. He hadn’t wanted to see it but Tony had insisted after he’d tried to kiss Tony after class this morning and been stopped. “I want you to know what you’re getting into,” Tony had said.

The video shows a club, nothing like the ones they had back in the 40s and considerably more risqué than the one Tony had taken him to last. Tony’s down to just his boxers, lying back on a table, as people—Tony doesn’t know who—do body shots off of his stomach. There’s a glazed look to his eyes; a lot of people said they were hazy with pleasure but Steve can see the panic behind them. Tony hadn’t wanted to be there.

“It didn’t go any further,” Tony blurts out, discomfited by Steve’s silence. “He just wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“Teach you a lesson,” Steve repeats lowly. Fury is thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t like bullies and Tony had clearly been bullied into this. “Because—why? Because you wanted to do something more with your life? Didn’t want to do what he did?” He runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck, Tony. Tell me you don’t think this is okay.”

Tony drops his gaze away. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“ _No_ ,” Steve says firmly. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This wasn’t your fault. The only mistake you made here was trusting someone you shouldn’t have.”

Tony looks at him for a long time, eyes a little wet. Steve hopes he’s said the right thing. He’s never been particularly smooth, even in his own time. This century is so different from his; it’s so hard to know if he’s misstepped, especially after he spent most of his time out of the ice either in his apartment or in places that reminded him of everything he’d lost. To his relief, though, Tony burrows into his chest, tucking his head under Steve’s chin. Steve wraps his arms around the little omega, dropping a soft kiss to the top of his curls.

“Thank you,” Tony breathes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you but thank you.”

They’re quiet for a long time before Tony continues in a choked voice, “It was really hard afterward. No one believed me when I said I didn’t want to do it. Some of them said it was my fault because I shouldn’t have gone out if I wasn’t expecting it. There was this journalist who even said that I couldn’t have changed that much if I was still willing to go out. I tried to say that Ty got me drunk but no one wants to believe someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Someone who’s been hurt, you mean,” Steve says quietly. “You shouldn’t—”

“Mom was disappointed in me,” Tony whispers. “She believed me but she was so upset I even let Ty back in. I don’t want to disappoint her again.”

“You’re not—” Steve stops. He’s never been good at this and it’s so important to him this time. He doesn’t want to mess it up. “I don’t think she’s disappointed in you.”

Tony shakes his head, hiding his face so Steve can’t see him. “She is. I know it.”

Steve thinks for a moment and then says, “You know, I used to get into fights all the time. It’s probably a miracle I haven’t gotten into one here.” Tony giggles reluctantly. “My ma used to be so disappointed when I came home with a black eye or a split lip, said I needed to be better about using my words, picking my battles. But she wasn’t disappointed in _me_ , necessarily, just that I was getting into fights, you know?”

“You’re Captain America,” Tony grumbles. “You’re not a fuck-up.”

“Neither are you,” Steve says sharply. “And I wasn’t back then. I was just a punkass kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Look, I didn’t get to see your mother when she was here but Nat and Clint did and they came back talking about how much she loved you, how much she cared that you were safe, that she wanted to meet your bodyguards personally so she could look them in the eye and know that they would keep you safe. She loves you, Tony. She’s not disappointed in you.”

“But—”

“Do you think I’m gonna leave? Do you think there’s anything you can tell me that’ll make me _want_ to leave? ‘Cause I’m not. I don’t care who you used to be. I care who you are now and who you are now is caring and beautiful and someone that I’m proud to be seen with.” Tony lets out a soft sob and cuddles even closer. “I’m not leaving,” Steve says quieter. “Not going anywhere.”

* * *

Their first kiss isn’t that day. It isn’t the next either or the day after that or the one after that. It is, in fact, a little over a week later when Steve brings coffee by the lab, drops it next to Tony’s hand, and turns to head over to the couch in the corner so he can sketch him working on his AI. Tony catches his hand as he turns and says softly, “You forgot something.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” Steve asks, running through his mind in an attempt to figure out what he’d forgotten.

“This.” Tony leans up on his tiptoes, curling his fingers into Steve’s sweatshirt, and presses a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulls back just a little when Steve doesn’t respond, too shocked to do anything. “Was that okay? It wasn’t okay. I was probably too forward, right?”

“Yes—no—wait.” Steve ducks his head down to press his forehead against Tony’s. He nudges his nose against the omega’s. “It was perfect.”

He kisses him again, lingering over the taste of Tony’s mouth, luxuriating in the sharp spike of Tony’s apple and cinnamon scent. Tony sighs happily, winding his arms around Steve’s neck. Steve licks into his mouth a few times before pulling back. Tony lets out a quiet moan, making Steve grin.

“That sure was nice, honey,” he murmurs.

Tony snorts as he lays his head on the alpha’s shoulder. “You sound old.”

Steve’s voice is dry as he says, “I _am_ old.” He cranes his neck back so he can look at Tony without dislodging him. “Could call you sweet thing if it’ll make you feel better.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “Too Brooklyn.”

“Pumpkin.”

“Now you sound like my mom.”

“Stud muffin.”

Tony’s peals of laughter fill the room and Steve grins. _He_ made his omega laugh like that, no one else. He is too funny, so take that, Clint.

“Definitely not,” Tony says after he calms down. He rests his head back against Steve’s shoulder.

“How about sweetheart?”

From this angle, he can just barely see the blush dusting Tony’s cheeks. “Yeah. That—that’s the one.”

* * *

They stumble through the door of Tony’s apartment, still kissing. He kicks the door shut behind him as Tony presses him against the wall. They kiss urgently, desperately, feeling the build-up of the last few months. Tony’s hands are everywhere, stripping him of his shirt, running up Steve’s chest, and Steve’s are just as busy, pulling Tony’s shirt up over his head. They break apart before Tony’s head gets stuck in the shirt and Tony lets out a needy little whine that goes directly to Steve’s cock.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, leaving Tony’s shirt tangled around his hands so he can nip at his bonding gland. They’re not there yet but _god_ Steve wants—wants to claim, wants to mark, wants the world to know that Tony is _his_ , his and no one else’s.

The room is filling with the scent of apples and cinnamon and Steve’s own cloves, creating a heady blend that leaves Steve all but panting to take his omega. He flips them, pressing Tony back against the wall, keeping his hands pinned behind his back. He sucks and bites his way down Tony’s throat, letting the soft moans guide him. He nips once at the omega’s bonding gland, knowing that he can’t spark a bond (not yet anyway), and then again when Tony cries out and rolls his hips against him.

“Are you getting wet for me?” Steve asks, remembering something he’d once overheard Bucky say.

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony gasps, rocking his hips into Steve’s.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” the alpha murmurs. He slides his hand from Tony’s back and then down further until he’s got a handful of his ass in his hand. He squeezes once. Tony throws his head back against the wall and keens.

His hand drifts further until he’s pressing against Tony’s hole through his sweatpants. He rubs at that damp patch, growing with every moment. Tony jerks his hips back onto Steve’s finger, cries out at the loss of friction on his cock, and jerks his hips forward again to thrust against Steve’s thigh.

“Perfect,” Steve says. He shoves at Tony’s pants until they’re tangled around his thighs, leaving him bare to the air. “You know, you really should consider underwear.”

Tony laughs breathlessly, quipping, “Or, and hear me out here, I can go without and you can have easy access.”

Steve moans at the thought and runs his fingertip down the crease of Tony’s ass. He taps lightly at his soaked hole. Tony squirms, trying to work his arms free. Steve doesn’t give him enough time to escape, driving his finger into his hole instead. Tony shouts wordlessly as he arches into him, pushing Steve’s finger deeper inside. Steve watches him for a moment before leaning in to nip at the omega’s bite-swollen lips.

“So pretty,” he croons, driving his finger into Tony again and again and again. Tony moans, pushing back each time Steve starts to pull away like he doesn’t want Steve to leave. Steve doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t want to leave either. Tony is warm and wet and tight around Steve’s finger and _fuck_ but this isn’t going to work if he can’t get Tony to loosen.

“Sweetheart,” he pleads. “You gotta relax for me. Wanna make you feel good, make you feel so good.”

“Feels great already,” Tony purrs. But he shifts and suddenly the glide of Steve’s finger is easier even if he isn’t entirely certain what Tony did.

He works his way up to a second finger and then a third, fucking them into the perfect omega in his arms. Tony’s eyelashes are fluttering, his bottom lip red and swollen as he bites on it. Steve can’t resist sucking that lip into his mouth. Tony mewls, crying out wordlessly for more.

Steve obliges by crooking his fingers, rubbing them against Tony’s prostate. His other hand pulls at Tony’s cock. It takes no more than three strokes before Tony tears his mouth away from Steve’s, screaming as he comes, cock jerking as he spills over his stomach and Steve’s hand.

Steve watches him open-mouthed. Never, in all his years, could he have imagined how beautiful an omega looks when they come. Tony, wonderful, gorgeous, _perfect_ Tony, is more than he could have ever dreamed of.

As Tony starts to come down from his high, Steve whispers urgently, “Please, sweetheart. Can I—?”

Tony responds by first wrapping one leg around Steve’s hip and then the other when Steve moves his hands to hold him up. He pushes Tony further into the wall so he can let go with one hand to position himself.

He pushes inside his omega slowly, letting him adjust. Through half-lidded eyes, Tony watches his cock disappear inside him, panting. “Is this okay?” Steve asks once the head is inside.

“So good,” Tony sighs. “Steve, _honey_ , please— _move_.”

So he does. Slow and steady at first and then rocking into him faster as Tony melts into his arms. Tony is hot and dripping slick around his cock, clenching down each time Steve pulls out. It’s the best thing Steve’s ever felt and he wants to say so but all he can manage to get out is Tony’s name repeated over and over and over.

Tony hisses through his teeth as Steve glides over his prostate. Steve immediately goes to pull out but Tony frantically says, “Good pain, not bad!”

He can feel his knot starting to swell but he doesn’t want to finish without Tony. He shifts the omega again to one hand so he can get a hand around Tony’s cock. He’s not entirely certain Tony ever went fully soft and it doesn’t take much until he’s fully hard again.

“Knot me,” Tony pleads the first time Steve’s knot pops inside.

Steve hesitates. “Are you sure?” He knows that, out of heat, Tony can’t get pregnant, but it’s still so—well, intimate is the wrong word considering what they’re doing but—

“ _Knot me_ ,” Tony demands and clenches down again so that Steve can’t pull out.

And he wants to—he does—wants to lock them together, wants to pump Tony full of his cum, wants to breed him for all that he can’t do it right now—and with Tony kissing him sweetly, he can’t think of a single reason to refuse. He grinds his cock in, still jerking Tony off, and as Tony starts to come a second time with a high-pitched wail, Steve’s knot swells one more time, locking them together. Steve wipes his hand off on Tony’s shirt, hiding his laugh with a cough when Tony makes a noise of complaint, and then carefully tugs the shirt off of Tony’s wrists. Tony immediately brings his hands up to Steve’s shoulder so he can tuck his head under Steve’s chin.

“Useless alpha,” Tony grumbles as he gets his breathing back under control. “The bedroom is that way and we’re stuck here.”

Steve eyes him, grinning mischievously. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He hitches Tony higher, reveling in the omega’s yelp and the way his cock jerks one last time as the movement grinds him further onto Steve’s knot, and sets off for the bedroom.

* * *

“Someone tried to break into Tony’s apartment while he was in class this morning,” Clint mutters. Alarmed, Steve turns to him, nearly dropping his sketchpad. “It’s okay! They didn’t get in. Tony’s got the apartment tricked out. Nat and I don’t even know everything he’s done but whatever is was, it sure scared the burglar off.”

“You think it was a burglar?” Steve asks. “Not—”

“Hard to say for sure,” Clint says. “The cameras were down for maintenance this morning. We don’t know who it was. Fact is, the only reason we know someone tried to break in at all is because Tony got a notification on his phone.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I think it was Stane though. He called Tony in the car this morning, said he wanted to meet up today and talk. Tony turned him down flat.”

“Good for him,” Steve says approvingly.

“Yeah, well, it probably didn’t make Stane too happy,” Clint points out. “Nat and Tony are back at the apartment, trying to convince the doorman to tell them if anyone suspicious came in today. They’re not having a whole lot of luck. It’s an expensive building. People choose it because it’s quiet and it’s private.”

“Guessing that applies to who goes in?” Steve asks.

“Got it in one. Anyway, Nat and I were thinking that we want someone to stay with Tony in the apartment at all times.”

Steve, thinking about all the times over the last week he’s gotten Tony to scream, says, “Oh.”

Clint smirks. “ _You_ , dumbass. We want you to stay with Tony since you practically live there already.”

“I don’t live there,” Steve protests.

Clint looks completely unimpressed. “In the past five nights, you’ve spent four of them in Tony’s bed.”

“I could be sleeping on the couch,” Steve says, not entirely certain why he’s arguing the point. He’s not sleeping on the couch and he wants to be there to protect Tony if someone actually succeeds in getting past Tony’s security.

“You’re not,” Clint says flatly. “Stop arguing with me and move in with your boyfriend.”

* * *

It’s two in the morning and Steve bolts upright in bed, heart pounding, still feeling the ice lingering on his skin. He doesn’t know where he is, the shapes outlined in the dark unfamiliar and threatening. There’s a sharp _pop_ in the distance and Steve’s brain makes the leap to gunfire. He reaches for the gun he keeps beside his pillow but as he does, the body on the ground resolves itself into a pile of clothes. He looks again. They’re Tony’s clothes, thrown carelessly on the ground. He looks around the room again. The rifle propped up against the wall is actually an umbrella. The chair in the corner isn’t really a man kneeling.

 _It’s fine_ , he tells himself. _It’s fine. You’re at Tony’s. You’re home. You’re not there anymore. They found you. They brought you home._ But it’s not until Tony snuffles in his sleep and rolls over so that he’s pressed against Steve’s side that he starts to truly calm. The arc reactor is glowing steadily, casting a blue light over Tony’s chest and over Steve’s arm, reassuring him that he’s okay, that _Tony_ is okay. Steve lies back down and brings his hand up to stroke through Tony’s curls. Tony makes a contented sound, throwing his leg over the alpha’s. Steve’s other arm wraps around Tony’s back, pulling him up so that he’s resting on his chest.

Tony stirs, blinking sleepily up at him. “Time izzit?” he asks blearily.

Steve smiles fondly at him, brushing a quick kiss over his forehead. “Early,” he murmurs. “Too early for pretty omegas to be awake.”

Tony hums. “Too early for you to be awake too.” He runs a hand down Steve’s arm. “Real tense, babe.”

He wants to tell him that there’s nothing for him to worry about. But that’s the kind of thing that would have been acceptable before he went into the ice. Tony is his equal. Steve doesn’t want him to ever forget it so instead, he says, “Nightmares.”

“I get nightmares too sometimes,” Tony tells him. “Mama used to make me grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. I’m not too good at cooking but we could try.”

Sometimes, Steve can’t believe he’s got such a perfect omega in his life (he’s sure that somewhere Clint is offended because he’s obviously a perfect omega too). He can’t believe that no one’s seen how sweet Tony is and made him theirs. He can’t believe that the world has focused on the bad things Tony has done and not on how much good he’s doing. But then again, if someone else had seen how perfect Tony is, he couldn’t be Steve’s.

“Sounds great,” he says, kissing the tip of Tony’s nose before he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. He throws on a shirt and sweatpants. Turning back to Tony, he sees that the omega hasn’t moved from the bed at all. Instead, he watches Steve dress with an appreciative gleam in his eyes.

“So I’ll just let you get dressed then,” Steve says dryly.

“Not my fault you’re so very distracting,” Tony purrs, eyeing his biceps hungrily.

Steve can feel the tips of his ears burning but he tries to hide it by turning around. “Guess I should leave then, huh.” He heads out to the kitchen, laughing when he hears Tony call, “Wait, come back!”

“What kind of cheese did your mom use?” he calls back.

“Swiss!”

He gets started pulling out the bread and cheese. He’s just finishing up slicing the tomato when he hears the pitter patter of Tony’s bare feet on the hardwood floor. “Hey, sweetheart,” he begins, “how much cheese—” He glances up, the rest of his sentence dying away as he takes in the sight of Tony in one of Steve’s button-ups and nothing else.

 _Mine!_ he thinks. He wants to drag Tony back off to bed, keep him knotted and blissed out, but the sandwiches are a good idea—but _god_ the sight of Tony looking like that… There’s a small smile at the corner of Tony’s lips like he knows the struggle going on in Steve’s mind.

“You’re impossible,” Steve says fondly and a laugh bubbles forth.

Tony moves to his side. He pokes at the bread. “I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be butter on this,” he says doubtfully.

Steve jerks his head toward the refrigerator. “Put it in the microwave.”

Tony obediently tries to heat up the butter, succeeding only in completely melting it when he lets it heat too long. His second attempt is better and it spreads evenly over the bread. He has no idea how much cheese goes on the sandwich so Steve shrugs and sticks two slices on with the tomato in the middle. If it doesn’t work, he decides, then he’ll just carry Tony back to bed and let his omega chase away the darkness hiding in the corners of his dreams.

He turns on the burner and waits for it to heat. As he’s reaching for the first sandwich, Tony ducks under his arm and hugs him, his head laying against Steve’s chest. Steve rests his chin on the top of Tony’s head, watching the butter in the pan sizzle. They cook like that, silent with Tony half-asleep as he leans against his alpha.

It’s not until he’s munching on a sandwich, hiding a grin as Tony opens his mouth for bites like a baby bird, that it occurs to Steve that, when he’d first woken up and reminded himself that he was home, home hadn’t been New York.

Home had been this tiny apartment five blocks away from MIT. It had been with Tony.

* * *

Tony is posing on the couch again.

Well, Steve says posing. Tony is actually asleep on his side, facing the class, knees tucked up to his chest and hands clenched over where the arc reactor hides beneath its covering. For a while, he’d been slowly blinking at the class, taking a little longer each time to open until his eyes eventually shut, long eyelashes laying still against his cheek. His breaths are deep and slow. He looks completely adorable and every inch the young man he is instead of the heir to one of the biggest companies in the world.

Lauren had clucked sympathetically when she’d seen him, having apparently gotten over her reservations about him. “Poor dear,” she murmurs. “Must have been a late night in the lab.”

Steve chokes on his latte, just barely managing to cover his laugh with a cough. He knows why Tony’s so tired this morning and it has nothing to do with a late night in the lab. Rather it has more to do with the three knots he’d taken last night and the two this morning that had thoroughly worn him out.

His phone rings, jolting him out of his thoughts. He casts an apologetic look at Dr. Smith and hurries outside to answer it. She just waves him on. He’d told her at the beginning of the semester that he does some sort of government contracting (Clint had given him the right words) and that he might need to leave sometimes.

It’s an unfamiliar number but he’s pretty sure it’s either Natasha or Clint. There’s only four people in the world with this number. Fury never calls and Tony’s asleep so it has to be one of the two spies. He frowns, closing the door behind him, and puts the phone to his ear.

“Captain Rogers speaking,” he says, just in case it’s not actually his teammate.

“Fury’s having me moved,” Natasha says without preamble.

His frown deepens. “Someone’s after Tony and you’re leaving? Why?”

“ _Because_ of Tony. We’re closing in on whoever had him kidnapped in Afghanistan. Fury’s convinced that Stark is right; it was an inside job. I’m going undercover at SI.”

Sometimes it bothers Steve that he’s not the one out there hunting the maniac who had Tony kidnapped. But then he always looks at Tony asleep beside him or sitting in his lap at Brewed Awakening or—he checks the room again—peering over the edge of the couch to check on him through the window and thinks that if he’s out there doing Natasha’s job then he can’t be here protecting Tony.

“Good hunting,” he wishes her, a phrase that he’s learned over the year he’s spent working with them.

“Steve,” she begins and then stops. It’s uncharacteristic of her to hesitate; he wonders what bad news she’s trying to tell him. When she starts again, her voice is gentle in a way that he doubts many people get to hear. “Steve, if we find this guy, this will all be over. You know Fury’s going to call us back to D.C.”

Pain lances through his heart at the very idea of leaving Tony. He takes another look through the window. Tony’s apparently content with Steve leaving the room and he’s settled back down, only the top of his curls visible over the arm of the couch. He thinks about leaving this behind, about leaving _Tony_ behind, and finds his breath coming faster at the very idea.

He takes another long look at the omega on the couch and then says shortly, “Understood,” and hangs up.

* * *

They’re in the middle of date night when Virginia calls, needing Tony to run to the pharmacy to pick up her meds. “Sorry,” Tony says with a grimace. There’s an uncharacteristically hesitant expression in his eyes. “Do you mind…?”

“If we leave?” Steve finishes. “Why would I mind?” Tony doesn’t say anything, which tells Steve as much as if Tony _had_ spoken. He could leave it there with the question unanswered but he wants to reassure Tony that him helping his friends will always be okay. “Sweetheart, I _don’t_ mind.”

“Pepper’s kind of far from here. You could go home. I should be back in an hour, maybe?” There’s something expectant and a little disappointed in his tone. Steve knows that tone intimately well as the one that he used to use with the omegas Bucky had set him up with when they wanted to go dancing with someone else. Tony, probably because it’s happened to him before, fully thinks that Steve actually does mind and is, what, trying to guilt him into staying?

“If you don’t think she’d mind, I could go with you,” Steve suggests instead.

Tony looks up at him with the tiniest hint of hope in his big eyes. “You’d do that?”

Steve wants to kill everyone who ever made Tony think that wanting to take care of his friends is a bad thing. “Of course I do,” he says firmly. “I liked her plenty when she was modeling for us. I’d love to get to see her again.” Tony beams at him.

Virginia _does_ live far away, Steve learns. Tony complains that it wouldn’t seem so far away if Steve would just let him drive. But Steve’s learned his lesson. _Never again_ will he let Tony drive, not if he values his life.

“Why does she live this far from campus? It’s a helluva commute,” Steve asks as they park.

“Pepper’s got a scholarship for classes but she has to work to afford the apartment. Closer apartments cost more so she lives out here and takes the bus in. She lived with me for about a week but we make much better friends than roommates.”

“How did you two meet?” Steve asks curiously.

“We grew up together. Pepper’s mom was the personal chef for the Pyms. She’s the same age as their kid, Hope, so they used to hang out together and then I used to hang out with Hope because her dad and Howard worked together for a while. I don’t really talk to Hope anymore but Pepper and I stayed friends.”

“Why do you call her Pepper?”

Tony throws him an incredulous look. “Have you _seen_ her with that pepper spray? She’s lethal with it. She was even worse when she was younger and didn’t know social niceties.” He pulled out a keyring, selecting one with a bright red cover. He inserts it into the lock of Virginia’s first-floor apartment and jiggles it a bit.

Virginia is laying on the couch as she reads a textbook, ankle propped up on a foam block. She props herself up on her elbows when Tony walks through the door. “Thanks for coming,” she says with a grin.

“No problem,” Tony assures her. He passes her the pill bottle and a bottle of water he bought at the pharmacy.

Virginia looks past him at Steve and frowns. “Were you two on a date?”

“It’s fine,” Tony chirps. “Steve asked to come.”

She raises an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve nods. “We’ve missed you in class. I just wanted to check up on you. Tony and I were already at dinner and I offered to come. The poor streets of Boston deserve better than Tony inflicted on them.”

“Hey!” Tony protests but Virginia chuckles.

“Tony?” she asks. “Could you run back to my bedroom? I’ve got a blue fleece sweater back there; could you grab it for me?”

“Sure.” Virginia flashes Tony a quick smile as he disappears into the bedroom.

Virginia’s smile immediately disappears and she leans a little off the couch. “So Steve,” she says briskly. “How long have you two been dating?”

Steve reels back slightly, surprised by the abrupt subject change. “A little over two months,” he says automatically.

“And you don’t think you’re moving too fast?”

Steve frowns slightly. “Too fast?”

“Most people don’t move in together after two months.”

“Tony’s SHIELD bodyguards are a part of my team. After the attempted break in, they wanted to permanently station someone in Tony’s apartment. They thought I would be a good choice since we’re dating.”

“You’re not there because you want to be?”

“Of course I am,” Steve says indignantly. “Just because it’s happening out of necessity doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.”

Tony calls, “Pep! I can’t find your sweater!”

“Did you check the closet?” Virginia calls back. She turns her attention back to Steve and closes her textbook, looking intrigued. “Were you assigned to Tony’s protection?”

“No, I was here on a—uh—a forced vacation,” Steve admits. “Meeting Tony was an accident but a happy one.”

“And you still don’t think you’re moving too fast?” she asks again.

“Maybe,” he says exasperatedly. “But, Virginia—”

“Pepper,” she corrects.

Steve smiles slightly. “Pepper, then. I like him, a lot. I know we haven’t known each other for very long but sometimes, you just know. Do you know what that’s like?”

Pepper’s smile is sweet and fond. “Tony had this alpha roommate at MIT when he was still an undergrad. He calls him Rhodey. We met a few years ago when Tony graduated. It was…an instant connection. We bonded a few months later.” She tilts her head back to show off the mating bite.

“Congratulations,” Steve murmurs.

“Thanks,” she says, tossing her hair so it covers the bite again. Pepper glances back toward the bedroom. “Tony’s had a rough go of it. Howard doesn’t much like him. Maria adores him but she’s a traditional kind of omega; she doesn’t fight for Tony the way she should. Stane, no matter what Tony thinks about him, is a snake. He doesn’t usually say it but Ty really hurt him with that night in the bar.

“Right now, Rhodey’s stationed somewhere even I can’t know. Tony probably does, because he probably hacked the orders, but that’s Tony for you. Rhodey’s proud to serve, always has been, but his first priority is, and always will be, Tony. I remember you from classes, Steve. I don’t think you’ve got bad intentions toward Tony. But I’m worried. You may be here on a vacation but your time here coincides with Tony’s new bodyguards and I can only guess that when they leave, you’re meant to too.

“So tell me, Steve, what happens when this mission is over?”

Steve doesn’t know how to answer that.

* * *

Steve can’t stop thinking about Pepper’s question.

He’d been saved from having to answer by Tony yelling triumphantly about finding the sweater but it hasn’t left his mind. The problem is, Steve doesn’t know what he wants to do. He knows what he _should_ do, which is returning to SHIELD and going on the next mission, but he’s changed from how he was before coming to Boston. He’s got something to look forward to when he comes home, something warm and beautiful and so full of life that Steve feels alive just by being around him. Steve knows that he had been drifting through life before the team had come to Boston but he hadn’t known just how bad he’d been until he’d gone to sleep actually feeling excited about waking up the next morning.

Tony did that. Steve’s more than a little afraid of what will happen when he leaves.

Brewed Awakening isn’t usually busy during the early afternoon so they’ve actually managed to snag a table. Tony is sitting across from him, a salted caramel hot chocolate in front of him, working on a schematic of another robot like DUM-E. Steve has his sketchbook out. Ostensibly, he’s working on a sketch of the snowy street outside. Tony keeps drawing his gaze though, and before he knows it, he’s got two pages worth of sketches of Tony.

He can’t bring himself to be mad about it though. Natasha’s getting close to finding evidence that’ll nail—someone, Steve doesn’t know who though he knows who he thinks it is—for Tony’s kidnapping. He hasn’t told Tony about it yet. The omega knows that Natasha left his security detail for an undercover mission but they haven’t talked about what will happen after she’s done. He’s sure that Tony suspects something about either Steve or Natasha—the omega is too smart not to—but neither of them are really the kind to voluntarily talk about their feelings so they just sort of ignore the fact that Steve’s time here is limited.

It’s just that he can’t ask Tony to give up on his PhD and come back to D.C. with him but neither can he expect him to wait around while Steve is in classified locations doing secret missions that he may not come back from. It’s unfair to ask that of him. Tony has his entire life ahead of him and Steve—well, Steve jumps from planes without a parachute.

So if he fills an entire sketchbook with pictures of Tony and Tony only so that he’ll have some way to remember the man he loves once he’s gone back to D.C., then that’s his decision.

Steve freezes, going back over his last thought.

He loves Tony.

He _loves_ Tony.

He loves the way Tony burrows into his side while they sleep and the fact that he burns water. He loves his beautiful bright eyes, and the way his cheeks pink from the cold and his fluffy brown hair. He loves the way Tony arches under him and lets out the sweetest cry when he comes. He loves his fierce loyalty and his whip-smart genius.

He loves Tony.

Tony is babbling about something so complicated it goes right over Steve’s head. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with the robot’s coding, not that it really matters. Tony likes to talk science at him because he says Steve makes an excellent sounding board.

 _Yeah,_ he thinks, _I love him._ And then he thinks, _Oh no._

* * *

Tony is draped over his chest, drawing absent circles around his nipples. Steve’s cock jerks, pumping a little bit more cum into the omega each time Tony strays too close to the sensitive peaks.

“My knot’s never going to go down if you don’t stop that,” he comments.

“Who says I want it to go down?” Tony asks. He grins at him and grinds his hips down onto his knot. Steve throws his head back with a loud groan at the feeling of Tony’s muscles clenching on his cock. His knot swells again as he comes a second time.

“You’re incorrigible,” he says fondly.

“You’re _gorgeous_ ,” Tony returns. “Who wouldn’t want to be stuck on your knot 24/7?”

Steve can think of quite a few people who wouldn’t but most of them had died some ten to fifteen years ago. And anyway, he doesn’t want to say that and ruin the moment. He traces a finger over the rim of Tony’s hole, feeling where they’re connected. His knot is big and Tony is tight but he’s pretty sure he could fit a finger in there, keep Tony as full as he likes. He sets the idea aside for next time.

“What was Howard like?” he asks softly. It’s been on his mind for a while now. Now’s probably not the time to bring it up but he wants to know before he goes back to D.C. He knows that Tony had loved his grandfather, knows that he adores his mother, but Tony only ever calls his father by his first name and always with this derogatory sneer twisting his lips.

Tony snorts. “Wow, instant boner killer there, Cap.”

Steve says mildly, “I don’t know. I’m still pretty hard.”

Tony raises a sardonic eyebrow. “Sass is not allowed from Captain America.”

“And what about from Steve Rogers? Can he be sassy?”

“They had sass in the 40s? Well, color me shocked.” Tony doesn’t wait for a reply before he sighs deeply and continues, “You know I built the arc reactor?”

Steve isn’t entirely certain what this tangent has to do with anything but he’s content to wait it out. He rests his hands against Tony’s back and kisses him softly.

Tony smiles sweetly at him for a second before it fades away. “We’ve got a big one out at the factory in California. Nonno invented it back when nuclear energy was becoming a thing. Nonno thought it was the wave of the future. Howard thought he was delusional. It’s just there for show now to impress the investors, for Howard to say, ‘Well we _could_ go into clean energy instead of weapons but look at the cost.’ He said a miniaturized version wasn’t possible, that the arc reactor was always going to be a gimmick, but I built it in a cave with a box of scraps. And when I showed it to him, you know what he said? Keep that covered. No one wants an omega with scars… That’s what growing up with Howard was like.”

Steve’s so angry he could punch something, the wall preferably but he’s still knotted to Tony. “He said _that_? He’s why you keep the reactor covered?”

Tony shrugs casually but Steve knows him. He knows that Tony was hurt by his father’s words. “Obie agreed with him, maybe not in the same words but he said it was dangerous, that someone might try to take it if they knew about it, so it’s not like it was a bad idea.”

Something about that strikes Steve as off but maybe it’s just the strategist in him that’s thinking that the arc reactor being kept secret from the world is a great way to make sure no one else knows the danger Tony’s in or why. He makes a mental note to ask Natasha to look into Stane further. Maybe Stane’s clean but maybe he’s not. Steve would rather be paranoid and keep Tony safe than dismiss his concerns and lose him.

* * *

The call comes on the last day of the semester.

Christmas is coming. Steve had woken that morning fully hard and wanting more when Tony, wearing nothing more than a Santa hat and a collar with a single jingle bell, slid down on his cock. He smiles to himself at the memory. It had been a good morning, even if he had taken the collar off Tony halfway through knotting him because the jingling had driven him mad.

Tony’s fully dressed today, claiming it was too cold to be naked. Steve knows the real reason is because he’s trying to hide Steve’s marks on his shoulders. Dr. Smith hadn’t fought him too hard about keeping his clothes on. The heating in the building had broken over the weekend and even though it’s since been fixed, the room still feels fairly cold.

His phone rings, the Pink Panther theme (Natasha’s new ringtone, chosen by Tony because he’s convinced she was a thief in a former life) blaring in the otherwise-silent room. He gives Dr. Smith a sheepish smile, the one that always worked on getting him out of trouble with the butcher down the street when he was growing up, and slips out of the room.

“You were right,” she says as soon as he picks up. “SHIELD arrested Stane twenty minutes ago.”

Steve slumps back against the wall, stunned. Tony has talked about Stane often. He grew up with Stane around almost more often than his own father. He calls him Uncle Obie. He loves him dearly. It almost doesn’t seem real that Stane could be the one who had him kidnapped. Sure Steve had suspected him but it’s _Tony_. Everyone’s suspect when it comes to Tony’s safety.

“Are you sure?” he asks, not even certain why he’s asking. Natasha wouldn’t have made the call if she wasn’t.

“I’m sure. He had a ransom video on his computer—the kidnappers were supposed to kill him but they decided to have him build them weapons instead. They told Stane the price would go up if he still wanted them to kill him.”

Steve’s breath leaves him in a whoosh. Oh god. He hadn’t realized how close he had come to losing Tony before he ever met him. Tony’s supposed to be _dead_ and it’s only human greed that kept him alive long enough for SHIELD to rescue him.

“There’s more,” Natasha continues. “We found Stane at Howard Stark’s mansion cutting the brakes on Stark’s car. Fury thinks he was planning to have all three Starks killed to take over the company.”

His phone chimes with an incoming text from Tony—only it’s not from Tony at all. It’s from Lauren.

_Where are you?? Tony’s phone just rang and now he’s white as a ghost._

Steve stares at the text for a long time, barely taking it in. He’s been freaking out over the idea that he might not have met Tony but Tony just found out that his godfather had paid to have him murdered and had actually just tried to murder his parents. What must be going through his mind right now?

“Steve?” Natasha asks impatiently. He gets the impression it’s not the first time she’s asked.

“What?”

“Fury’s calling us back to D.C. The Quinjet’s en route, ETA thirty minutes.”

Steve pushes off the wall and looks through the window in the door. Half the class is gathered around an unresponsive Tony, who’s staring blankly at the wall. One person is on their phone. Steve would be willing to bet they’re on the phone with emergency services.

 _I should be in there_.

The thought comes out of nowhere but it feels right. He should be in there taking care of his omega. He thinks about the last few months, about how he’s felt more alive these months than he has in two years, about the revelation he had only a few weeks ago about how much he loves Tony. He thinks about the specialty coffees at Brewed Awakening and how Tony is working his way through all of them. He thinks about Tony’s apartment and his warm bed, about grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and a robot with an obsession with the fire extinguisher. He thinks about all of this and then he opens his mouth.

“Don’t bother. I’m not coming back.”

* * *

“’Not coming back?’ Care to explain yourself there?”

Steve had been expecting a call from Fury but he hadn’t expected it to be that same evening. “Just that, sir,” he says, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb Tony. “I’m not coming back to D.C.”

“Captain, the world needs Captain America.”

Steve scoffs. “The world doesn’t even know that Captain America is still alive.” He runs a tired hand through his hair. It’s been a long day, talking Tony out of a panic attack, reassuring him that he’s not going anywhere. Tony only just fell asleep twenty minutes ago after a phone call with his parents reassuring himself that they’re both still okay. “Look, you’ve been saying for two years that I needed to find something other than my apartment and SHIELD and I found that. I’m not going to ask Tony to wait for me or leave Boston. So I’m stepping away for a while.”

“Will you be coming back?”

“Eventually. I don’t think I can stay away for good. Might be a few years though.”

He can just imagine the frustrated look on Fury’s face as he says, “If that’s all I can get out of you—”

“It is.”

“Then we’ll just have to deal without you.”

“You did just fine without me for seventy years. You can probably handle another few.” A small part of Steve, the part that’s been using SHIELD to keep his mind busy and off of his loss, seizes at the thought of stepping away. But he’s making the right choice here. _Tony_ is the right choice.

“We can handle it just fine,” Fury says testily.

Despite knowing that Fury won’t be able to see it, Steve shakes his head before saying dryly, “Thank you, sir.”

“Yeah,” Fury grunts. “Keep in touch, Rogers.”

The line goes dead before Steve can say anything else.

He spares a moment to be annoyed at Fury’s dramatic tendencies but that annoyance disappears when Tony busses a sleepy kiss onto his chest. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, running gentle fingers through Tony’s curls. “No need to be up yet.”

Tony nods and quiets back down with a contented noise. Steve waits until Tony’s fully asleep again before kissing his curls and murmuring, “I love you, sweetheart.”

In his sleep, Tony smiles.


End file.
